His Pet Peeve
by TheHouseKey
Summary: -TDK- No longer just a one-shot! A couple kids are trying to shoot a movie the Joker doesn't like. If there's one thing he's a stickler about, it's Canon. Spoilers!
1. Smiling

The wind whips the clean half of my blonde hair around. I want to get this done already. Why couldn't she just tell me what to do and be done with it? That's what a director's _supposed _to do. I know. I've taken a class in directing.

Which is why I should go easy on her. She's three years younger than me, and she volunteered to help with my second Batman movie. So she's a great person…

Just really bad at directing. But then again, I'm not so hot at that myself.

"Come on, George, your wife _died _here. Let the emotions dictate what you do," she says for the eleventh time. I counted.

"Lisa, if you'd just tell me what to do, I can add the emotions into it."

She shakes her head, sending her long, dark, and wavy hair around her and the camera she held up. "If I just tell you what to do, it'll be mechanical and not real. You're supposed to be Harvey _Two Face_ Dent. I should tell you half of what to do. The other half you flip your coin for."

She's joking. Obviously. That stupid little smirk means she's joking.

I want to wipe my face. My whole face. But I can't, as half of it is made up to look like the bad half of Harvey Dent. The suit I'm wearing is alternately half white and half black…and yes, I am wearing two different color shoes. I feel ridiculous.

"Can't you trust me?" she asks, aiming those big brown eyes at me.

Aw crap. I'm a sucker for that look. Especially as she's a lot shorter, so she has to tilt her face up and did she pout like that on purpose? I take a deep breath and roll my eyes.

So I try it. I walk up to the side of the building, resting my hand on the brick. _Here_, I think, _she died here._ Heavy with understanding, I take another step forward. I look up, out, around…that much was in the script. Too heavy, I sink to my knees. It makes sense, I guess, when something hurts that bad. My hands go to my head in torment.

"Cut!"

I think I've gotten it right. She's smiling. Smiling's always a good sign.

* * *

Why couldn't he trust me? I might be just outta high school, but come on! I've been in theater since I can walk. I know about mechanical. I know about performances being unbelievable. I _know._

I also know George isn't a professional actor. He'd never even been in theater. He's a movies guy. He's studying movies in college. So, yeah, he knows about the shooting, directing, camera angles, whatever, but I know about acting. I saw the first Batman movie he made and…well… the acting. That's all I'm saying. So excuse me for trying to make this movie something better. Something great.

He looks great. For dollar store make up, anyway. He did find better stuff, but he wanted to look the same from the first movie. Whatever. I just have to keep myself focused on the task at hand and not on how his green eyes are really dreamy…

Snapping back, I notice he's not doing anything. "Come on, George, your wife _died_ here. Let the emotions dictate what you do." Yeah, that is the eleventh time I say this. Because, you know, maybe he's just got a short attention span. What am I saying, _maybe_?

"Lisa, if you'd just tell me what to do, I can add the emotions into it."

I shake my head. Sure, we could do it that way. But not everything has to be planned. I gave enough room in the script for this little insight into Harvey Dent. I'm the script writer, too, by the way. I'm primarily an actor, and I would have killed to be given free space to help characterization. But no, I give this little block of time to an amateur who needs his hand held. I'm done arguing. I'll state my case one more time.

"If I just tell you what to do, it'll be mechanical and not real. You're supposed to be Harvey _Two Face_ Dent." Then a thought hits me.

"I should tell you half of what to do. The other half you flip your coin for." I like it. He doesn't. I sigh. I imagine he wants to be done. Time to break out the big guns.

I look up into those dreamy green eyes, set my mouth a tad lower, bring up my shoulders and shoot, "Can't you trust me?"

When he rolls his eyes, I know I won. He steps on to the taped X a couple yards away. I can sense the change already. He's honestly stepped into character. Excitement builds as he takes those leaden steps of the burdened. I was right! He looks up, out, around. I added that to help him get into it a little better. We'd already shot the looks, as I like the camera looking where the actor's looking…just a little habit of mine.

Is he kneeling? I resist the urge to dance in triumph. I expected a sigh or something less dramatic…but no, he's on the ground. Grabbing at his hair in torment.

"Cut!" I love him. I _love _him. Well, I do, he doesn't know, but that's besides the point. I love this shot. He smiles in response to my grin. Smiling's always a good sign.

* * *

Lisa jumped into his arms to hug him. As she landed, shots rang out like a machine gun. The two flattened against the wall.

"What's going on?" Lisa asked.

"I don't know," George responded, trying to see if anything was going on around them.

There was nothing. Except for the figure coming slowly toward them, an odd loping grace to his walk. As he came closer, details about him made the clean hair on George's head stand on end. He turned to Lisa, who was just as paralyzed as he was.

"We should run," she whispered.

Neither of them moved.

The purple suit, the green oily hair, the face. He was just about to them now.

"Why so serious?" George muttered back to Lisa. He attempted a smile.

"Are you kidding me?" She raised her eyes to heaven. Putting the camera down on the ground beside her, she tried to get a better look at the man.

His face was covered in cracked white face paint. He was holding a gun. "Hello, kiddies," he chuckled. "This is an odd make out spot." When he laughed again, Lisa sank to the ground. He saw this and stopped laughing. "Stand up, both of you, and move away from the wall." This order was curt, snappish.

They stood up, and George moved in front of Lisa. "Look, Mister…"

"I'm the Joker. But you already knew that." He chuckled slightly. "My face has been around enough for you to know…but Dent's? Not that that's what he looked like. Next time you want your make up done, call me. Here's my card." He threw one of his joker cards. "And you might want me to make you a better costume, too. You look more foolish than I do. Haha!"

"If that's all, Mr. Joker, sir, we'll just leave…" Lisa tried to stammer.

"If that's all? If that's. All. No, I don't think that's all. I've been watching you two since you set up your shoot. And if there's one little tiny itsy bitsy microscopic pet peeve of mine, it's canon."

"Please sir, we follow comic book canon—" Lisa tried again. George pushed her further behind him.

"Comic books," he laughed. "Comic books." He shook his head. "You think we're in a comic book? DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE OUT OF A COMIC BOOK!?"

He moved closer and grabbed at George's face, pushed his back against the wall. "So, if you know all that, do you know how I got these scars?" He paused for dramatic effect. "I was on set for this little movie a friend of mine was making, and the director wasn't pleased with my performance. So, he takes out his red paint, and draws this line along my face. So I'd always have a smile, he said. The character had to be lighter, but my character's girlfriend just died. So he couldn't be funny." His other hand on George, he lifted the gun to Lisa. "Well, he went off the deep end." He nodded to punctuate his story. "and he grabbed one of the grips' knives and he came up to me," he threw the gun on the ground and pulled a knife from his pocket, "he came up to me and said, 'Why so serious?'" He put the knife in George's mouth.

"Please, don't hurt him!" Lisa cried. She wanted to shake so bad her knees were buckling against each other.

"Oh." The Joker looked at her as though he just remembered she was there. "She doesn't want me to maul your pretty face. Isn't that sweet?" He dropped George and started in on Lisa.

"Am I right in assuming you scripted this travesty?" he asked, accenting the last T in 'travesty'. "Dent wouldn't like it, you know." He towered over her. "You messed up." This seemed to make him angry, and he grabbed at her face. She whimpered.

"How did you mess up? Well, for one, Dent never married. So he didn't have a wife to kill. That would'a been too easy. No, no, he had a fiancé, that's harder. That's messier."

"Let her go, Joker," a deep voice growled from the fire escape above them.

He sighed and made a face. "Can't you see I'm busy? You want these kids messing with canon? Just a minute, Batsy."

"Kids?" Batman replied.

"Yeah, there's the guy dressed up like Dent…" Joker looked around and could no longer see George. He seemed amused. "Lookie that. Your boyfriend has deserted you. Didn't expect that." He laughed a maniacal little laugh. He took the knife and pressed it to the side of Lisa's throat. He turned his head again. Surely the boy would see this and come out of his hiding spot. He pressed the knife in harder.

Lisa started to cry. She didn't want to die. If he didn't want her making their movie, she'd stop. Really. A trickle of warmth bloomed from a nick on her neck.

"Let her go, Joker. She's nobody."

_Ain't that the truth_, Lisa thought.

"I'm doing them a favor. Either they'll never talk to each other again, or they'll be inseparable for the rest of their lives."

"They're just a couple of kids. What do they have to do with anarchy? With the destruction of Gotham? What plan do you have now?"

The Joker threw his head back and laughed. This was a full out guffaw. "You _still_ think I have a plan? Still? I thought you knew me better than that!" He continued laughing. "And…even….if." He had to pause to laugh and breathe. "And. Even if. I had a plan. Do you really think I'd tell you? HAHA!" He was now booming with laughter so fully he dropped Lisa to the ground.

She crawled away, gripping her throat. Curling into a ball, she stared at the Joker and his giggling.

George came out of nowhere with the tripod they'd elected not to use and smashed it against the Joker's head.

"Now that's more like it!" In the Joker's turning towards George, Batman struck quickly. Still laughing, Joker was being carried away by Batman, back up the fire escape.

Maybe smiling wasn't always a good sign.

Hey everybody! I hope you enjoyed this...it may be the opening to an actual full out story, depending on how well it goes over. I would like to know what you think. It's the first thing I've written in a _while_...a long while. so, you should review. Please?


	2. Followed

The two teens breathed a sigh of relief once both the Joker and Batman were gone. They didn't notice the thug hanging just around the corner, watching them.

"That was epically face-melting!" George exclaimed.

The breath rushed out of Lisa in one fell swoop. "Oh yeah. Almost dying and being held at knife point is quite possibly the most pleasant experience of my life." She leaned against the brick wall and tried to get her balance back.

"Of course. But you've got to admit, the tripod idea was totally boss."

"My fearless hero. How could I ever thank you?" Lisa put her hand to her heart in a mock swoon.

"I've got a few ideas," George chuckled. In response, Lisa playfully punched his arm.

In the background, the thug put the call in.

"If you're trying to get a hold of me, remember I might be stalking Batman, avoiding jail, or… my favorite pastime, blowing stuff up. So, before you leave a message, think about whether or not you want to be a part of the blowing stuff up." The voice mail beeped.

"But, I mean, the Joker? Heath Ledger's dead," Lisa reminded. How on earth someone could be that spot on was a real mystery to her.

"Then someone found a really good impersonator," George offered.

"For Christian Bale, too? You think just anyone can sound like the love child between Clint Eastwood and a grizzly bear?" She didn't think so.

"True that. I don't know. I think we set our movie inside the set of someone else's movie, and they didn't like it." He was trying to come up with some way to explain the costumed weirdoes that ran into them.

"Since when do actors and Hollywood go homicidal? Really? Really. He would've killed us, George," Lisa reminded.

He thought about it for a little while. "You're right. It just doesn't make any sense, no matter which way you slice it."

"You can say that, again."

"It just doesn't make--"

"George," she warned. He stopped and put his hands up in surrender. "What're we gonna do?" she asked worriedly.

"Well, I'd suggest going home."

The thug watched as they headed south by southwest. Like a silent wolf, he followed as they attempted to make their way home.

"Hmmm…" mused George.

"Hmmm? What is this 'hmmm'?" Lisa repeated.

George shook his head. "This should be Pershing. At least, I think it should be." The street sign definitely did not read Pershing. Instead, it read Kane. That made no sense.

"Maybe if we turn around…"

"No. I don't think that'll work." He continued staring at the street sign, as if daring it to switch back to what it was supposed to be.

"Then what…"

"That's not a street that should be around here."

"There are a lot of streets in Chicago, George. How do you know that you didn't just get all turned around?"

He shook his head again, and Lisa felt her stomach drop. He _should_ know a lot about the streets and things. He attended a college in downtown.

"Look at the sky line, Lisa. The Sears and Hancock are missing," he pointed out.

Lisa thought she was going to be sick. George pulled out a paper towel from his back pack and began to wipe his burnt face make-up off. "Regardless of the street name, my car should be… there!" he found.

They approached the gray minivan and Lisa had never been so relieved to reunite with her purse. All of their stuff hadn't changed, or moved, or switched names.

"Lisa?" George asked.

She was too busy attempting a text message to respond.

"Lisa."

"Hold on--"

"Can you get out of the car for a sec? I need to change."

"Oh." Lisa's face burned with embarrassment as she existed the car. The text wasn't going through.

-

"The one-shoulder carry, huh? Very useful. Unless the victim's injured, then it's a problem," the Joker rambled. He was tossed over Batman's shoulder as Batman went to give him to the police.

"I really couldn't care less if you were hurt," he growled.

"Since you asked so nicely, my head's a little dizzy. The Mini-Dent got my right temple. Jogged my gray matter just a little. You think my musical talent will have suffered?"

Batman grunted an answer. He had hoped the boy would've knocked him out.

"My father used to encourage musical ability but--"

"If you don't shut up, I'm gonna play a number on your face."

Joker's eyebrows shot up. "Now that's not like you. Who stuck his key in your keyhole?"

Batman fell back into silence.

"Aw… see, now goading you is my favorite pastime, but you've got to help me figure out how those kids know about Dent."

"Whatever they know, it's due to you."

The Joker laughed. "Why thank you! I didn't know you felt that way about me." He continued to giggle.

"Why are you so focused on them? They couldn't possibly know everything about Dent."

"Why _aren't _you focused on them? They'll destroy your cause if they continue gallivanting about with half of that idiot's face painted."

"They're just kids."

"Who know too much."

"Who wouldn't know anything if you were safely put away."

"What does it matter what I did? I just.. Act. They plan to use Dent's tragedy for the entertainment of their friends. You can let them do that, can you?"

"Act? You never just act. You set things up exactly so that they go your way."

"Boy, any more compliments and I'll just have to ask for your cooperation with a drug test."

Batman dumped the Joker unceremoniously and tied his hands and feet together.

"I didn't know you were into this sort of thing, Batsy. I'm torn between being touched or disturbed. I _like_ it."

Batman fought very hard the urge to give the Joker a swift kick in the--

"About time you got here!" the Joker cackled.

A blow came to pass on the side of Batman's head. As Batman spun around to face his adversary, a car exploded beside them.

"Ooh, nice touch with the car," Joker complimented as a thug untied him. The two snuck away in the sudden deluge of masked men. Batman punched and kicked, jumped and dodged. They had his ridiculously outnumbered, but this was what he trained for fighting armies by himself. Except, he hadn't known his quandary had gotten away, or Batman would have fled himself. When he realized the Joker had escaped, this gave the crowd the split second they needed to overwhelm him. One grabbed his head, one grabbed his leg. Batman heard a sickening crunch as they tied him up.

When Commissioner Gordon showed up to work that morning, he found nothing but shreds of string and duct tape.

-

The pair drove in awkward silence. Lisa found her friend's phone number to be out of service. George wouldn't admit that he was completely lost.

"Isn't this 87th and 88th?" Lisa asked. "Yeah, there's the police station. Even the gas station's the same. We heading to Roberts?"

George nodded. "I guess we can just hope that's the same, too."

They didn't notice the black Sedan following them.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to **Puddum** for reviewing!! Everyone else, please review. Please?


	3. Rotten Tomatoes

"Alfred?" Bruce called. He limped out of his bedroom.

"Sir?" Like a silent ghost, Alfred materialized beside him.

"I think my leg's broken."

"Would this be an appropriate time to send you to the hospital, Master Bruce?"

"If you could take care of it, I'd rather not go to a hospital."

"Very well, sir. Let's get a good look at it. What'll Batman do, if I may ask, sir?"

"He'll just have to be a little gimpy for a while, Alfred."

"Master Bruce, may I suggest that you take a while off of Batman? It can only be prudent, especially as the police are particularly intent on your capture."

Bruce paused to contemplate this. "The Joker freed himself from Arkham. He's out there."

"And the police are looking for him without Batman's help right now. If he's still at large once you're healed, then you can assist in his detainment." It seemed Batman was taking a vacation.

-

"Well," Lisa sighed. "That's Archer."

"But no Garden Lane," said George.

Where Lisa's subdivision had been was a large construction site.

"No home." She paused to control the overwhelming fear rising within her. "George?" She sounded like a small child. "What are we gonna do?" She was on the verge of tears. She crossed her arms to hold herself together.

George put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey. Hey. We're gonna be all right. We might not understand how we got here, but if we got here, we can get back. It's gonna be okay." Lisa attempted a smile. "Maybe Batman knows something. If we could set up the signal--"

"Or we just tell Bruce Wayne," she added.

"Oh yeah. That's gonna be hard, though. He's probably got people to deal with every aspect of his life."

"We'll just have to catch him off guard."

-

"Fantastic party, Bruce!" a middle aged woman gushed.

Smooth jazz played softly in the background. The expensive champagne made its rounds fairly quickly.

It was a business soirée, the kind his investors and benefactors fawned over. It was all a situation he knew too well. Chatting with one of his board members, Bruce felt an overwhelming bout of boredom. It had been three days since Alfred set his leg in the cast. Speaking of Alfred, he appeared beside Bruce and whispered something distressing his ear.

-

Expensive chairs, fancy lights… Lisa had fun putting a word to this beautiful room. It was worthy of the terms "Parlor", or "Antechamber." George didn't care if it was a front room or a living room, he was very uncomfortable in the expensive chair.

Bruce Wayne came through the door, highly agitated. He stopped before them to see the kids from the movie. She was wearing the same clothes, though they were now disheveled. He looked relatively normal without the Dent get-up. His appearance was scruffy as well. Sympathy and compassion made a small case for the teenagers in his mind, but the demand for an explanation won out.

"How do you know about Batman?" he asked gruffly.

Lisa attempted to think. Here was a man who looked _exactly_ like Christian Bale, and he was Batman. Weird.

Luckily for her, George still had the power of speech. "We have reason to believe that we stumbled into your… dimension? I don't know. Dimension fits."

"How does that tie in with Batman?" He would be relentless.

"Batman is a lucrative franchise in our dimension," Lisa offered, having regained her voice.

"A comic book hero," George offered.

Wayne was obviously taken aback by this. "Like some sort of… Tony Stark?" he replied, unable to understand.

Lisa made a note of that. Marvel Comics were still comics in this dimension.

"Not exactly. You don't tell people who you are. You thrive in the darkness, in the shadows. Batman's much more subtle."

An hour later, Bruce Wayne still couldn't wrap his head around the situation of the two teens. How had they gotten here? Even if they were telling the truth about the whole dimension thing… which, they couldn't be. Could they? How else had they known? Had they just guessed? No, they didn't react with surprise when he'd told them.

Unfortunately for him, the party was still swinging. His leg hurt like ten thousand needles were stuck under the cast. Alfred watched him like a hawk. It had been no different when Bruce was sick or hurt when he was younger. He may have been on the other side of 30, but he was still Master Bruce to Alfred.

Lisa laughed. "But I don't like tomatoes!"

"I'm the one making the salad! You'll eat tomatoes!"

The kitchen swelled with the smell of the garlic bread in the oven, and the spaghetti sauce on the stove. It was the most advanced kitchen Lisa had ever seen. George was mixing the salad together.

"But I don't like them!" she repeated, pouting like a child.

"Too bad." He shot her a death glare lightened with that sarcastic twinkle in his eyes.

-

"It's turned off, boss," he growled. Stan had several problems with his "boss." For one, he was scared to death of clowns. And here he was, working for one.

"What?" the Joker looked over the machine. "I guess it had to be, huh? Anyone know how those kids got in?" He laid a gloved hand on the complicated mechanical box in the center of the sparse room.

"Where they from a different time, boss? Like the past?" Biff was just as disgusted with the boss as Stan was, but he was slightly less intelligent.

The Joker became irritated at this question. "No, no! They looked too modern. So maybe the future… but no! He drove a dilapidated '96 minivan that made the journey. If they were from the future, that thing wouldn't have survived. They did know about Dent, but their camera wasn't no or interesting. Her fashion was comfortable… cheap and comfortable. They definitely looked present-like. No… I think we tapped into something bigger. Something more important."

"Like simple transport?" Biff offered. He wasn't even granted a response. Stan felt like slapping him upside his head.

"We need them. We need to figure out where they came from … how they know about Dent… why they're here. Hey you, idiot number 2!" He pointed at Biff.

"Yes, boss?"

"Get a team together to find these kids. Their first names are George and Lisa. I think the closer we get to Batman, the closer we'll get to finding them," the Joker commanded.

Biff nodded and left. Stan was left feeling resentful. What he wouldn't give for a chance to get out of this psychopath's presence.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks to **laurentaylor14**for reviewing! Thanks to all those reading, too!! Please review; reviews make my life!! ^_^ Err... sorry but I forgot a disclaimor from last chapter. I did not come up with the phrase "love child between clint eastwood and a grizzly bear" to describe Wayne's disguising his voice. I can't remember who said it, but it's from a fanfic story. If you know where it came from, please let me know!


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